First to the Finish
by HooliGLAM
Summary: Jace Wayland has only ever been a racer. In a car, on a bike. Jace gets into a disagreement with his agent, resulting in Jace searching for a new one. He finds Clary Fray, a small woman with as much drive as any of his cars. When tragedy arises Jace's career is put on the line, can Clary help himget back on his feet? Or will Jace's racing days be over for good. Full summary inside
1. Suddenly

**Hello everyone. Thank you for clicking my story. I understand that there were many stories you could have chosen and I appreciate you choosing mine.**

**EDIT: This is the edited version of the chapter that was originally supposed to be uploaded. **

**Summary: Jace Wayland has only ever been a racer. On his feet, in a car, on a bike, anywhere he could think of. Motocross is his life. After winning the Open season, Jace gets into a disagreement with his agent, resulting in Jace searching for a new agent. He finds Clary Fray, a small woman with as much drive and power as any of his bikes. Clary and Jace quickly connect, and Jace begins to develop feelings for her. When tragedy arises, and Jace's career is put on the line, can Clary help him get back on his feet? Or will Jace's racing days be over for good. Rated T for now, may change to M later.**

**Note: I pronounce Stephen's name with an 'f' sound, instead of a 'v' sound, and Taki's is pronounced 'Tacky' with an 's'.**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Cassandra Clare. I own nothing aside for any original ideas.**

* * *

_Suddenly people know my name,  
Suddenly everything has changed,  
Suddenly I feel so alive, in the blink of an eye.  
Suddenly I am center stage, suddenly I am not afraid  
Suddenly I believe again, it's happening now._

Suddenly – Ashley Tisdale

* * *

"—_And coming around the bend is number seven, Jace Wayland! He's followed closely by number thirty-two, Jonathon Morgenstern."_

"_It'll definitely be a close call, Mark. As always."_

"_Yes, Joe. These two young racers have been challenging each other all season long. Morgenstern pulls ahead, only by a foot!"_

"_Wayland won't go down without a fight, Mark. What watch as he pulls up. They're going head-to-head again. The finish line is in view now." _Jace tuned out the announcers' voice for a moment; his entire body leaned on the edge of his seat. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins; could feel see the glimpses of determination in his reflection. His eyes stayed glued in front of him, completely focused on the finish line. Two more hills, and three hundred meters until his victory.

"_It'll be a photo finish, folks!"_

Jace crossed the finish line, pulling on the brakes so the dirt bike swerved in the dirt. It really had been too close to call, and the fact that it had been Jonathon Morgenstern, of all people, did little to reassure him.

"_You had him by a full six inches, Jace."_ The audio was fuzzy, and Stephen's voice was blurred by static, but Jace understood his agent clearly enough. He watched as Stephen appeared dressed in the Wayland team jacket. _"You've got this in the bag."_

As the other racers finished, a man in a suit walked out, holding a microphone and a folded piece of paper in his hands. He lifted the microphone to his mouth.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, our officials have reviewed the photograph, and it brings me great pleasure to announce the podium placement for this afternoon."_

"_In third place, with a time of thirteen minutes forty-five seconds, welcome Sebastian Verlac to the stand!" _The audience cheered as Sebastian went to collect his bronze trophy with a bright smile, before raising his arms up._ "In second place, Jonathan Morgenstern!" _The light haired boy looked almost shocked to be called, but was halfway to the podium, practically snatching the silver trophy, standing next to Sebastian. The audience's cheers erupted as the announcer returned._ "Finally, with a record breaking time of nine minutes and forty-eight seconds, beating Jonathan's time by only thirty milliseconds, I give you the new American Motocross champion, Jace Wayland!"_

The crowd cheered, louder than they had for both Sebastian and Jonathon. Jace walked to the announcer, shaking his hand and collecting the paper and gold trophy. He bowed his head, letting the assistant slide the medallion around his neck. He turned to wave to the crowd, and instantly, news reporters and photographers surrounded the podium.

"_One at a—"_ The television shut off, leaving Jace staring at his reflection in the dark screen.

"Good job yesterday." Stephen nodded toward the golden trophy on the table. Jace reached for it, lifting it carefully and bringing it across the room to the glass trophy case by the window.

He stopped for a moment, clutching the trophy in his hands. There was a gold plate with his name on it, and Jace found himself running his thumb across it, feeling the cool metal and the ridges of the letters.

"How many is that now? Twenty-two?" Jace snapped his head up, putting the new trophy on the shelf. He was running out of space.

"Twenty-three, including the medal." He corrected, spinning around. Stephen had settled himself on the couch.

"Oh, well, we need to discuss something." Jace walked into the kitchen, lifting himself to sit on the counter, opening a bottle of pop. Stephen crossed the room to him, holding out a pile of papers. On top were photos, taken by a paparazzi, most likely.

"One girl is claiming you slept with her, after the win yesterday, explaining why you weren't at the celebration. Another says she has pictures and texts of you and her, doing and saying inappropriate things."

"So? What's your point, Steph?" Jace's face was indifferent as he flipped through the photos. It was him, that was for sure, with a girl whose face he was too hung over to remember.

"My point is that you can't just be screwing around with anything in a skirt. Not you. Not now."

"I'm not even twenty-one yet, Steph; are you saying I can't have fun?"

"_I'm saying_," Stephen went on, "that everyone knows you're in love with that model girl, Casey –"

"Kaelie," Jace corrected. "And I wouldn't stretch that it's love—"

"Whatever. I'm just saying that you can't be acting like that now. We can't afford to mess up, not this close to the World Series."

Jace nearly choked on his drink.

"Wait, what? World Series? Steph, I still have to _get through_ to the next round before I can even consider _thinking_ about the World Series."

Stephen sighed, realizing that discussing anything with Jace while he was in a mood like this was pointless. Discussing anything with Jace, _ever, _was pointless. "Fine. No World Series talk. For now. But I _am_ going to talk to Hodge. You're getting soft on your turns. That's where you let Morgenstern get ahead. Maybe a little more training before the season starts up again—"

"No." Jace said, setting his drink onto the counter beside him.

Stephen had been scrolling through his phone, a plan already formulating in the back of his mind. "You've got press all next week, and then Fell's party, and then a month off for break. Maybe we could cut that a bit short and –"

"No." Jace spoke louder this time.

"Yeah, that could work." Stephen went on, completely ignoring him now. There was a calendar hanging on a nearby wall, and Stephen went to it, using highlighters to mark down different days of importance.

"We'll resume training the second week back. No, the third, and then we'll be away for Spain on the twenty-first. Perfect!" This time, Jace had had enough.

"Stephen!" He yelled. The man finally turned looked up, his blue eyes searching Jace's face. "I said no."

"To what?"

Jace opened his mouth to reply, but a loud _beep-beep-beep _cut him off. Stephen looked down at his phone. "Oh, damn. Kid, come on." He looked back up at Jace. "I told Fell that you'd answer some questions for him today. You know how he is. We should get going. Put on a shirt, the car is waiting."

Somehow , that was the last straw for Jace. He jumped off the counter, turning to face his agent.

"No." He said again. "I'm not going/" He shouldered his way passed Stephen, biting back a wince of pain as he hit the bruise on his shoulder. He headed up the stairs toward his room, hoping for a quick shower and a nap.

But Stephen had other plans.

"What the hell do you mean 'no'?" He yelled angrily, following him up the stairs. This isn't an _option_, Jace! Stop being a child and get ready!"

Jace undid the button on his jeans, trying to ignore the pounding at the back of his head. "I'm not going, Stephen. I have _one_ rule: Nothing after a race. My head is killing me. I'm _tired._" Jace pulled down his zipper. Stephen stood by the door, leaning against the doorframe. "Now, I'm about to get naked,"

"Jace," Stephen warned, narrowing his eyes.

"And unless you're staying for the show," Jace continued. "I think you should leave me alone now."

Stephen shook his head. "Again, I'm not your babysitter. Put on some clothes, try to look presentable, and _get in the damn car."_

Jace let out a frustrated sigh. "What part of 'I am_ not _going' do you not understand? I don't want to talk to some old man about bullshit questions I've answered a million times. I want to _rest._" Jace crossed the room, reaching into the nightstand to find a large manila envelope. Sighing, he handed it to Stephen.

The man to it carefully. "What's this?" Taking the pointed nod from Jace, Stephen went ahead and opened the envelope. A small stack of sheets fell out as he tipped the envelope into his palm. Jace sucked in a breath as he watched the man read the first of the papers. "I can't believe this." Stephen finally met Jace's eyes. "You're _firing_ me?"

"I can't take all of your crap anymore Steph!" Jace met the man's glare evenly. "I'm tired of it."

"Tired of _what_?" Stephen yelled. "Of getting paid to do nothing? Of having your _whole life_ laid out for you." Stephen laughed humourlessly. "Or are you tired of letting everyone else cover for you when you mess up? Hodge is _still_ trying to pay off _your_ fine from the drug bust last month. So enlighten me, Jace, what the _hell_ are you tired of? Because from where I'm standing, you have it easy!"

Jace clenched his teeth, letting his anger subside while he bit the inside of his cheek. _Don't hit him,_ his thoughts warned. At least one side of him was thinking rationally at the moment. _Don't swing._

"I'm tired of you showboating all the time. All dam day it's 'trophy-this' and 'win-that' and 'where's-the-limo?'. I'm sick of it."

"You're acting like you don't love the attention, Wayland." Stephen pointed at finger at him. "You _love_ knowing that no matter what, you _always_ come first." Jace closed the distance between him and Stephen. The two were pretty evenly matched in height, Stephen weighing about twenty-five pounds more than himself, but Jace being younger, and in better shape.

"I didn't _ask_ for this! None of this was handed to me on a silver platter! I never wanted anyone to put me first. You did. Hodge took that fine because of _you_. Because _you_ didn't want Idris to find out that you'd let me go out that night. you were saving _your_ ass."

"Oh yeah," Stephen shoved Jace back. "And what if I didn't? If I didn't tell Hodge to take that goddamn fine, you'd have been suspended for the season. You would have _lost_, Jace! It probably hadn't occurred to you that other people have _families_ to take care of! They have to work_ hard! _They don't have people to wipe their ass with gold toilet paper every time they shit the goddamn bed!"

"_I work hard!" _Jace shouted. " All freaking season. I work, I train, I win. I put up with the cameras and the press. I don't sleep. I don't rest! I'm twenty years old, Herondale. I didn't even get to celebrate my birthday, because I was too damn busy training. I train all day – all damn week long until every inch of my body hurts, and I _still_ get up and race the next day!" He stabbed his finger into Stephen's chest. "It's not _you_ doing this. It's not Hodge. It's _me!"_

Stephen scoffed. "You're a _child,_ Jace. You have _no idea_ how to do any of this by yourself. "

Jace sighed, sitting down on his bed. "Stephen, you're getting paid. I don't want to make this any bigger than it already is. So _please_, just get out."

Stephen stalked out of the room. After a moment, Jace followed.

Stephen was back in the living room, standing near the trophy case. "You didn't do this by yourself," he said, sliding back the door. Jace stood in the archway, watching as Stephen lifted a medal. It was one of Jace's earliest wins, from before Idris signed him. "You had a team. We helped you do this." Stephen was deathly calm, which unnerved Jace more than he would like to admit. Only Stephen knew the real reason why that specific trophy meant so much to him, and Jace did not like the way he was holding it. "We made this happen, as a _team."_ Jace flinched as Stephen lifted the trophy, chuckling again. "You don't know the meaning of the word, do you, Jace?"

"Put it down, Stephen." Jace stepped forward. Stephen looked at him; his eyes bright with rage.

"Fine."

Before Jace could respond, Stephen slammed the trophy back down on the shelf, effectively shattering the case. There was a loud crash, but Jace could barely hear it over the pounding in his ears. Blood was pounding behind his eyes.

"Get the hell out of my house, Stephen." He said lowly. His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. It was taking everything inside of him to not punch Stephen. "Get _out."_

Stephen was looking at the trophy case, or what was left of it. Only five of his trophies were still standing now. Stephen uncurled his hand, letting the trophy fall to the floor, before shoving passed Jace towards the door. Bits of broken glass crunched under shoes. He stopped at the door.

"I want you to remember something, Jace." Stephen glanced around at their surroundings, then to the shattered trophy case in the corner. "Remember that you're still young. You might not give a damn about what people think," Stephen's light blue eyes finally meeting Jace's own gold one's. "But you'll mess up. and you'll realize that this," he made a sweeping gesture. "This can all be taken away. You can lose everything _so fast_, Jace. Remember that."

The sound of the door slamming notified Jace of Stephen's departure. Jace didn't tend to the fallen trophies, or even the glass on the floor. Instead, he headed across the living room, reaching into a cabinet and finding a bottle of alcohol. He unscrewed to the lid, tilting the bottle to his lips. The dark liquid burned down his throat, but did nothing to clear his head. His took a few more swigs, heading into his bedroom and lying down.

Half an hour later, Jace had finished the liter-and-a-half bottle. His head was foggy – none of his thoughts made any sense to him. He closed his eyes, already unconscious before his head hit the pillow.

.o.O.o.

The streets of New York never slept. As the sun set, parents called their children in from a day of playing others were just making their way home. The homeless gathered in alleyways around small fires, and drunken men and women were thrown from bars, left to wander the streets in a stupor.

Clary Fray was none of those people. She sat at home, curling up on her couch after a long day of work.

"Simon, hurry up!" She called. "If you miss the beginning you won't understand anything!"

Her roommate emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. He set it down on the small table next to the couch.

"You're acting like I haven't seen this movie about a hundred times. I could recite the entire film to you, if you'd like."

"No thanks." Clary laughed. "No offense, but I'd rather watch Orlando Bloom talk, instead."

"I'd like to argue that Orlando has nothing on me." Simon winked at her, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. "Now move over."

Clary sat up, waiting until Simon got himself comfortable behind her. Simon reached out and pressed play on the remote. _"_It began…" Simon said as the movie begun. "With the foraging of the Great Rings."

The Fellowship had just entered Moria when Clary heard her phone buzzing on the table. She reached for it, pressing the green button.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Clarissa." Clary instantly recognized her boss's voice. "I hope I'm not disturbing you." Clary maneuvered herself up into a sitting position.

"No, not at all." Simon took the hint, pausing the movie and changing the channel.

"I have a proposal for you. You did suck good work with Merlion these past few years. We believe that you would be the best choice to represent our client."

"Which client is it?" Clary was alert now, the movie completely forgotten. Simon was channel surfing and Clary motioned for him to stop on the entertainment channel.

"Jace Wayland," Imogen continued. "The motocross racer. He recently fired his agent, and it's important that he is under new management before the season begins."

Clary had heard a lot about Jace over the last few months. He had been in the news almost every week for something new. "It would be a wonderful opportunity for you, and for him, but if you would like a chance to think about it." Clary nodded to herself, thinking the offer over.

"Yes, if I could have a few days to consider it."

"Alright, please get back to us as soon as possible." Clary hung up the phone, placing it on the table.

"What was that about?" Simon asked, reaching for the popcorn bowl.

"Idris called." Clary explained. "They think that I should work with Jace Wayland."

Simon looked thoughtfully at the television. "That guy?"

Clary followed his gaze. On the screen, there was a blond haired boy on the screen. "Turn it up, will you?" Clary focused on what the reporter was saying.

"_The racer was not spotted after the championship race, and he was nowhere to be found at the award ceremony."_

Another reporter spoke up. "_This isn't the first time that Jace has skipped and event like that. If you'll remember the half season ceremony, also absent for that. Sources say, this time, he was spotted at a popular nightclub downtown. He was later thrown out for causing a disruption."_

Simon shook his head in disgust. "That kid is losing himself." He said slowly. "He'll be arrested if he's left alone for too long." Clary couldn't help but agree. The first reported spoke up again:

"_He also had a few choice words for our cameras on Saturday afternoon, after we caught up with him and his long time model girlfriend._

A video appeared on the television screen, and clary recognized Jace's too-blond curls, even if his face was covered by dark sunglasses. Jace was shown walking out of a restaurant with a girl on his arm. Jace held his hand up to block the camera.

"_Get the hell away from us!" _It looked as if he'd shoved the photographer, repeating his words. Eventually the couple reached the car and Jace flipped the cameraman off before speeding away. Clary picked up the remote shutting of the television.

"I don't think you should do it, Clary." Simon said slowly. He made another grab at the popcorn bowl, but frowned, realizing it was empty. "He's bad news. He'll only stress you out."

Clary sighed, pressing her lips together. "Maybe he isn't. His career, and all his success, it came so suddenly." Clary pulled her legs up underneath her. "He didn't really have time to take everything in. maybe he's just trying to adjust."

All weekend long, the image of Jace was stuck in the back of her mind. She wasn't much older than him – she had turned twenty-six earlier that month. A part of her felt bad for him. Clary had promised Imogen that she would think over the offer, and that's exactly what she did. Over the weekend, Clary kept an eye out for news about Jace. In twenty-four hours, he'd gotten thrown out of three nightclubs, and had been charged for speeding down a freeway.

He was drowning. Clary knew how the industry worked. She knew the way it could affect people. It wouldn't be long until he was completely hooked on drugs, or arrested. Without much more thought, Clary returned the call to Imogen.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Clarissa. Have you considered the offer?"

"Yes," Clary said slowly. "I'll do it."

* * *

**And there you have it, folks. The actual chapter. Again, only slightly different than the first one, but also a thousand words longer. I also decided to make this a regular chapter, instead of a prologue, because this is nine pages in twelve-font, so I figured it was a **_**bit**_** too much to be considered a prologue. I hope you enjoyed it, and I think I'll be able to give you the first chapter by either mid-week this week or mid-week next week.**

**Until then, see you later (:**

**HooliGLAM**


	2. Lost - Part One

**Hello, readers. Okay, I understand that this took WAY TOO LONG, but there was a bit of a bump in my plans. I hadn't actually planned on updating this until I was completely finished writing the entire story. But since that plan got cut, I think I have a system going. So basically, I won't be updating a new chapter until the next chapter is finished being written, because I'm not only typing everything, but also writing it out longhand because I can't trust my computer.**

**EDIT – July 13****th****, 2013: Please go back and re-read the first chapter! I fixed it. It's not exactly mandatory, because essentially the same stuff happens, but I think you should.**

* * *

_Now you`re lost; lost in the heat of it all._

_Yeah, you know you're lost; Lost in the thrill of it all. _

_Miami, Amsterdam, Tokyo, Spain. Lost!_

_Los Angeles, India, lost on a train, lost!_

Lost – Frank Ocean

* * *

Jace's phone rang early the next morning. He'd been purposely ignoring it for the past few hours in hopes to get some rest that day – he was completely exhausted from the excessive workout he'd done the previous say. Usually, a few hours of exercising would help to clear his head, and if that failed he would submerge himself into a bottle of alcohol.

It wasn't the best of habits: overworking himself or damaging his liver, but usually it helped to keep him sane.

But not this time.

Jace had worked every muscle in his body to a breaking point – his entire workout consisted of running five miles, then swimming thirteen laps in the pool, followed by half an hour of weight lifting, and finally beating on a punching bag until his the tape on his knuckles had peeled completely off revealing the quickly purpling knuckles underneath. He had exhausted himself enough to fall asleep – an over fifteen hour rest that left him feeling even more tired than before. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball as sleep some more.

But his damn phone wouldn't_ shut up!_ it went off five times an hour; the last few times being the only ones to actually wake in up. Groaning in frustration, he reached across the bed, wincing as his muscles stretched painfully. Jace's fingers brushed against the against the phone, but it slipped from his grasp, vibrating off of the nightstand. He thought of leaving it there, but the ringing started up again. Jace crawled to the edge of the bed, his fingers scaling the carpeted floor until they curled around the device.

Without looking at the number – his eyes were still half closed and heavy with sleep – he pressed the green answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"What?"

The voice on the other end was too familiar to Jace, and made him feel guilty for answering so harshly.

"Oh, is this a bad time, Jace?" The little voice asked. Jace could picture the fear and sadness in the boy's eyes, magnified by his too big glasses. Jace sighed slowly.

"No, not a bad time at all, Max. I'm just tired, is all." His voice was thick with sleep, and Jace was having trouble ignoring the disgusting taste in his mouth.

"Oh . . . I could call back if –"

"No, no. I should get my ass up – I mean, wake up, now anyways." His younger brother hated it when he swore, so Jace was always finding himself correcting his words. "How are you? Mom said you were starting camp so? Moto, right?"

"Yeah!" Max's voice instantly perked up. "I'm so excited! By the end of the summer I'll be as good as you."

Jace smiled, sitting up and yawning. "I'll tell you what." He said. "If you go every day, and you work hard and practice even harder, then at the end of the summer I'll come get you and you can stay with me for a few weeks before you start school again."

"Really!"

"Yeah, tell Mom. But you have to practice every day or the deal is off." Talking to his brother was easy, and usually could take Jace out of whatever bad mood he was in. "What's new?"

"I saw your race! You totally _smoked_ Morgenstern!" Jace smiled inwardly, rolling out of bed. His brother had always been his biggest fan. In Max's eyes, Jace could do no wrong. "All of my friends saw the race, too. They still can't believe you're my by brother. Can you believe it? And they said the Morgenstern is the better racer! No way!"

"Well, Jonathan didn't win the championship, did he?" Jace laughed.

"_Exactly!"_ Jace had left his room by now, heading into the adjoining bathroom. Max was still talking as Jace stared at himself in the mirror.

In a nutshell, he looked like shit. There were large dark circles under his eyes, a visual representation of the lack of sleep he had suffered through over the past few nights. He had checked into a doctor about it, and had eventually been prescribed sleeping pills. But after a few weeks, even that had stopped working, and Jace upped the dosage to four or five pills every few hours. He wasn't eating much, either, causing his cheeks to pale in colour and thing; his angular cheek bones becoming more prominent.

". . . and then this one time last week, we went to the science centre, " Max gushed excitedly on the other end. "And I sat next to Jessie the entire ride, there _and _back." Jace hummed appropriately to show he was still listening. He removed the phone from his ear, placing it on the counter and pressing the speaker button.

"You're on speaker, kiddo." He warned,

"Oh, okay. So then me and Jessie were partners on this ride –it's kind of like Jurassic Park, with all the dinosaurs — and she got really scared and she was holding onto me –"

"Wait, wait!" Jace stopped looking at the bruise on his shoulder. It was a darkening purple now, standing out against his tanned skin. "Jessie's a girl?"

"Yeah, I thought I said that already."

Jace thought back. "Yeah, you probably did. Sorry. I'm not really focused right now, kid."

"I can call back later."

"Yeah," Even as he said it, Jace felt awful, but he knew that he wouldn't have been able to pay any attention. "Yeah, later would be good. Tell Mom I said hi, okay?"

"Yeah, okay . . ." Jace could hear the sadness in his brother's voice and sighed, trying to find something to say.

"Remember to tell Mom about our deal. Three weeks, got it?" Max quickly agreed, and his mood lifting. "Alright, see you later, kid." Jace hung up the call, sliding the unlock bar on his phone. The device _ping_ed, five new notifications appearing. More of the messages were from Hodge, but he skipped over them. His trainer would be questioning him about the past week, and he just wasn't in the mood. There were also calls from Idris, the company that owned the competition. Jace had called them and discussed the issue surrounding Stephen. They had agreed to find him a new agent within the week. Just as he was about to press the redial button, the phone rang.

It was an unknown number, unrecognizable by Jace. He pressed the green button. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Jace Wayland?" He didn't recognize the female voice.

"Um, yeah. Who is this?"

"Hi, Jace. I'm calling from the Idris Agency to discuss your issue with Stephen Herondale." Jace clutched the phone to closer to his ear leaving the bathroom.

"I wouldn't exactly call it an _issue_ per se." Jace said, sitting back down on his bed.

"Oh?" The voice on the other end hadn't been expecting that, and sounded surprised. But, to Jace's own surprise, she recovered quickly. "The motocross season just finished, the Infernal series resumes in two weeks. You don't have an agent, and Idris doesn't allow racers to enter these competitions without management." The woman paused. "Sorry, but what part of that doesn't qualify as an issue to you?"

Jace considered for a moment. "I suppose that could be potentially problematic," he said. He could hear the irritated sigh on the other end.

"Yes, I suppose so. Either way, I'm calling from the Idris Agency. My name is Imogen –"

"Imogen _Herondale?_" Jace interrupted. "Stephen's wife?

"No, that's Amatis. I'm his mother, and CEO of the Idris Racing Agency. Now, you need an agent, Jace. And I believe we have one that is willing to take over Stephen's position."

"Who is it?"

"Clarissa Fray. She's one of the best here at the agency and she'd be thrilled to work with you."

Jace blinked. "What! I ask you to find me an agent, and you get me _her?_ What happened to Michael?"

"Michael is already handling many clients of his own. And Clarissa is the very best at what she does."

"Yeah, but does she know how to deal with Motocross, or Infernal?" I can't have a rookie to begin the season with. She'll get crushed!"

"Jace, I can _assure_ you that Clarissa knows her stuff. She'll be able to help you with _everything_." Jace could hear something underlying in the way she said that, but could not wrap his head around it. "Just give her a chance. You aren't really in a position to do otherwise right now."

Jace shook his head slowly. Maybe he was being sexist, but here was no way this lady could manage _herself_ in the racing industry, let alone get him to the World Series. As much as Jace hated to admit it, Stephen had been his best chance at making it to the World Series. He had gone about the publicity wrong, but Stephen knew how to talk to sponsors, and he knew how to play them into paying ridiculous amounts of cash per race. On the other hand, Jace knew he needed _someone_ to manage him. so reluctantly, he agreed.

"Fine. She'll do. At least until Michael frees up, of the half season races. Then we'll see how good she really is."

"Wonderful! Are you free later today so we could meet, and the two of you can finalize the contract? Can you get to the coffee shop on Main and Fifth? Around three o'clock?"

"Yeah, sure." Jace agreed, then hung up. Now that that was cleared up, Jace went to deal with the awful taste in his mouth. Stepping back into the bathroom, this time plugging his phone into the speaker. Scanning the his music list, Jace decided to press 'shuffle', shedding his remaining clothing as an upbeat dance song filled the room. Jace turned the shower faucet on his, pushing it to the hot side. As the water heated up, he brushed his teeth, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. After spitting out the mouthwash, Jace hopped into the shower.

The heat instantly relaxed him, soothing his sore muscles and flushing his skin. He leaned forward, pressing his hands against the cool tile of the shower wall. The hot water soaked his hair, rinsing away soap and shampoo from his body. After a half hour the water ran cold. Jace shut off the tap, stepping out of the shower. As he wrapped a fluffy dark blue towel around his waist, Jace turned up the volume on the speaker and left the bathroom.

The air his bedroom was much easier to breathe without all of the hot air from his shower. Jace walked across his bedroom, rummaging through his closet until he found a pair of grey sweatpants. He pulled the pants on over a pair of boxers just as the doorbell sounded throughout the apartment. Jace ruffled the towel over his hair, throwing it onto the bed and left the room without stopping to put on a shirt. The doorbell went off again.

"Oh, _shut up!"_ Jace muttered. "I'm coming." He hopped down the last few steps, crossing the living room to reach the front door. He pulled it open, revealing his girlfriend. The blonde girl smiled at him, pushing past him and swinging her two large shopping bags onto the island in the kitchen. "Where's your key, Kae?" Jace asked closing the door and leaning against it, crossing his arms and ankles.

Kaelie spun to look at him, removing her heels and approaching him. "It's in my purse. My hands were full." She reached out for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Jace smiled, uncrossing his arms to place his hands at her waist. "I heard you fired Steph?" She asked, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. She continued after Jace nodded. "Bummer. What happened?"

Jace pulled her closer, leaning in to kiss her mouth. "He's an ass. I don't want to talk about him right now." He concluded, leaning back in. This time, Kaelie put a hand out, touching his chest.

"They're talking about you on T.V.. Again." Kaelie pulled away from him to walk into the living room. Letting out a groan of frustration, Jace followed her.

"Isn't it _you_," Jace asked, "who's always telling me that any press is good press?" Kaelie shot him a look, one between mild frustration and disappointment, and sat on the couch.

_She _has_ changed, _Jace thought as he watched her. Kaelie was beautiful, with natural blonde hair that reached the middle of her back. Today, it was curly – her bangs brushing across her forehead in perfect wisps. Her contacts were in, Jace noticed, making her ocean-blue eyes sparkle. It was this distinct beauty that had landed her a successful modeling career, and had also caught the attention of Stephen. Early in Jace's own career, Stephen had approached the two of them with the idea. Both Jace and Kaelie were attractive people, and together they were able to make each other more popular. They had been the 'it' couple – one that was always followed around by paparazzi, cameras, and rumours. Over time, Jace and Kaelie had accepted the arranged relationship they had been forced into, they even found things in common, and began liking each other.

Two years later, Jace had told her he loved her.

She hadn't exactly shut him down – there was no laughing in his face – but she hadn't said the words back, either.

Since then, their relationship had been less than perfect. Each of them dove deeper into their jobs, causing Kaelie or Jace to spend weeks at a time in other countries. Jace would fly out to see her, but he was usually too busy with racing.

"See," Kaelie's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He hadn't realized she had turned on the television. "You and Steph are all over the news."

"Jace realized he hadn't turned on the television since his fight with Stephen. He unintentionally glanced at the spot by the window. He still hadn't cleaned up the glass, but Jace had spent five minutes arranging the trophies on the floor. His gaze returned to the television screen. There was a photo of him and Stephen at the half ceremony. Jace recognized it immediately, because the same one was currently on the floor amongst the pile of glass. Suddenly, the picture tore down the middle, breaking apart, until each boy was on spate sides.

"_Is this deadly duo really over?" _A female voice spoke. "_Sources say that champion racer Jace Wayland has _dropped _his long-time friend and agent Stephen Herondale."_

There was a montage of pictures appearing and disappearing on the screen, each of him, or Stephen, or the two of them together, and then a male voice: "_For those of you who don't know, Jace and Stephen appeared out of nowhere a few years ago. Since then, Jace has quickly become the most talked about celebrity under the age of twenty-one. He has won four out of his last five championship races in only three years, making him the only racer to have won back-to-back championships in both motocross _and_ high-speed. _

The female voice was back again. "_Jace was, of course, nowhere to be found after his championship win last week, but Stephen had a few choice words after our cameras caught up to him."_

It cut to a clip of Stephen on the street. _"Stephen Herondale?" _A microphone was shoved in his face. "_What are your thoughts on your recent split with Jace? How will this affect the rest of his career, along with his upcoming high-speed season._

Stephen didn't stop walking. Instead, he turned his head to look straight into the camera. For a moment, his icy-blue eyes seemed to stare straight at Jace. Then he spoke. "_Honestly, Jace is going to fall on his ass without me."_ Jace stepped forward, clenching his hands on the back of the couch to keep himself calm. "_He's nothing but a self-centered son-of-a—_beep— _that doesn't give half a—_beep—_about anyone else. I'm so glad I—"_

Jace reached across Kaelie's lap, grabbing the remote and shutting off the television. "I told you Kael, he's a jackass." His girlfriend spun around to face him.

"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," she said, sitting up on her knees so that she was eye level with him. Jace frowned. "Where were you after the race?"

"Why," he interrupted rather harshly. "It's not like you came looking for me." He had meant every word, but a part of him wished he could take it back after seeing the flash of hurt on Kaelie's face.

"Who were the girls you were with, in the pictures?" She continued. Jace shook his head slowly, shrugging his shoulders and removing his hands from under hers.

"I went to celebrate." He answered carefully. "Sebastian and I went to a club – we met some people, we drank, we danced. It was fun."

Kaelie narrowed her eyes at him. "The _girls,_ Jace. Who were they?"

Jace shrugged again, muttering a quick, "Fans," and turning to walk away. Before he could take a step, Kaelie grabbed his wrist.

"Groupies?" She asked suspiciously. Jace held her gaze for a minute, considering and trashing a couple of answers. He knew exactly what he was asking, and decided to tell her the truth. He locked eyes with her for a moment longer before he wrenched his arm from her grasp, nearly pulling her over the back of the couch. He headed into the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter and unscrewing the cap off a water bottle. "Jace were –"

"If you're asking me if I screwed them," Jace interrupted, "then the answer is no. Even _I_ wouldn't say yes to an orgy with Sebastian."

"JACE." In that moment, Jace felt a twist of minute fear coil in his stomach. The look Kaelie was giving him could've made a grown assassin cower at her feet. "Are you saying that if Sebastian _wasn't _there you would've said yes."

"I'm_ saying" _Jace countered, tilting the water bottle to his lips, "that I was too drunk to remember." Kaelie frowned at him, obviously not believing him. "I went to the club, we met a few _fans_," he stretched the word. "And I got wasted – it's just what I _do,_ Kael."

"I don't like it, Jace." She said. "You're always doing shit like this! How would you like it if I was screwing around with Sebastian? Or Stephen, or some random guys on the street?"

Jace brought the bottle to his mouth again, tilting it up and gulping down the rest of the liquid. He put the cap back on, tossing the bottle through the air to the recycling bin across the room. It slid off the counter, hitting the garbage can beside it and bouncing into the bin. "I should've been a basketball player." He joked.

"Or a professional pinball player," Jace's eyes shot up to look at Kaelie. She had left the couch, and was now sitting on the island across from him. "I'm still mad at you," she reminded him. "Answer the question: how would you feel?"

_Pissed off. _He said, "You can't stand Sebastian, Kaelie. You wouldn't be alone with him for five minutes, let alone let him touch you. And I already have my doubts about you and Steph, so can we just forget about all this shit, _please? _I'm sorry, okay." He knew she hated fighting as much as he did, so he changed the subject. "What'd you get?" He asked, nodding towards the shopping bags on the counter.

Kaelie's face instantly brighten. She reached behind her to grab the smaller of the two bags. "Melanie and I did a little shopping today. For me, I got a new pair of heels, two dresses and a bunch of shirts." She grinned at him sexily. "And for _you,"_ she pulled out a piece of lacy black fabric from the bag. "I pick up a few . . . _delicates."_ Jace pushed himself off the counter, moving until he was standing between her legs. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I wanted to try them on, and I need a second opinion." Jace smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Who knows," he said. "Maybe we'll get through the _whole_ bag this time." Kaelie tossed her arms onto his shoulders, kissing his lips once. Jace pulled her closer until she was flush against him. he pressed his mouth to hers, lifting his arms to grip her wrists. Following his lead, her fingers tangled through Jace's hair, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat. One of Kaelie's hands trailed its way down his chest, fanning across his abs until they reached the band of his sweat pants. Jace groaned, sticking out his tongue to swipe across her bottom lip. Giggling, Kaelie parted her lips, sucking his tongue into her mouth.

"Maybe we should—" She said in between kisses, "—Go upstairs." Jace smiled, leaving her lips to kiss his way down her neck.

"Lead the way, babe." Kaelie laughed, taking his hand in one of hers, the pink shopping bag in her other, and jumped off the island. Jace followed her up the stairs, and the two of them had barely made it into the bedroom before Jace had her pinned against the doorframe. Kaelie spun them around, Jace with his back pressed into the wooden frame. Smiling, Kaelie hooked her fingers into the band of his pants.

It was then that Jace caught sight of the time. 2:54 blinked at him.

Swearing, Jace pushed Kaelie back gently. "I have to go, babe."

"Seriously!" Kaelie scoffed, flopping down on his bed. "I'm trying to get you naked for really hot make-up sex," Jace raised an eyebrow as he shed his sweatpants for a pair of jeans. "And you're _leaving? _What the hell, Jace?"

As he pulled up his pants, Jace sent his girlfriend a look. "Not that I'm one to turn down 'really hot make-up sex'," Jace said. "But I'm meeting Imogen Herondale to figure out what to do about the rest of the season. You can come if you want." He offered, turning to tear through his closet for a shirt. After finding one, he bent to pull on a pair of shoes.

"I think you should wear a black shirt." Kaelie said, pointing back over Jace's shoulder. "There's something sexy about you in black." Shaking his head, Jace shrugged out of his current shirt, exchanging it for a tight V-neck shirt. He held up his hands to Kaelie, raising an eyebrow. "It's an improvement." Jace smiled at her, reaching beside the bed for the duffle bag that contained his training equipment.

"You're not coming?" He asked. He was officially late for the meeting,, noticing that the clock had struck 3:01. Jace looked at Kaelie expectantly. When she shook her head, Jace didn't try to hide his disappointment. "Fine, but I have training later, so don't wait up." With that, he leaned forward, kissing her cheek lightly, then spun on his heal and jogged down the stairs. Kaelie had a key, so Jace simply grabbed a random set of car keys and headed out of the apartment. He didn't bother locking the door, figuring Kaelie would do it when she got up. "Bye!" After a quick pocket check, assuring his that he had his wallet, phone and iPod, Jace stepped into the elevator.

There were perks to living in the penthouse apartment of one of New York's most prestigious building, such as the amazing view, two floors, and his own car garage. But the elevator ride took for_ever_. After several minutes, Jace finally made it to the garage, waiting for the elevator to _ding_ open before he walked out. There was a security box on the door, and he quickly typed in the code, hearing the buzz and pushing the door open. "I am _so_ late," he said out loud.

It was then that Jace pressed the _unlock_ button on the keys. Of the five cars parked in his garage, Jace had picked the keys to his favourite. As he entered his black Ferrari 458 Spider, Jace tossed his training bag onto the passenger seat, pushing the start button. He felt the engine roar to life, and by 3:09, he had left the building and was speeding toward the diner.

After avoiding two speeding tickets, being pulled over once, and having to wait fifteen seconds for three red lights in a row, Jace made it to the diner by 3:25. Parking and shutting off the engine, Jace stepped out into the sun, donning a pair of sunglasses and walking into the coffee shop.

It was nothing spectacular, a simple coffee shop with about twelve tables and a few booths by the window. It was relatively new, and had quickly become the hang out spot for teenagers. For a Thursday afternoon, the place was packed with people. Jace scanned the room; his eyes eventually found a brown haired lady resembling Stephen.

He crossed the room to the booth, realizing that Imogen was not alone. Across from her sat a woman with long red hair. The woman's back was to Jace, so he could not see her face. Imogen looked up and waved to him as he approached. He slid in beside her, glancing between Imogen and the woman across from her.

"Sorry I'm late, ladies." Jace said. "I hate to keep you waiting." Usually, he could get Imogen off his case by being charming, and it looked like today was no exception. She was used to him by now, and simply shook her head, a small smile touching her lips. The woman across him, however, clicked her tongue.

"I would think that someone whose career relies heavily on speed and timing," she said, setting her iced tea down, "would at least be punctual." Jace frowned, leaning forward on his elbows, sliding his sunglasses off his face.

"My career is so much more than speed and timing. It's also patience, agility, adjustability, experience – I could go on. It's not as easy as I make it look." He was being rude, but Jace hated it when people underrated him. "And I said I was sorry. I had meant it before, but now a part of me is regretting the I came in the first place."

"Jace—" Imogen said after a moment of uncomfortable silence; in which Jace didn't break his glare at the woman across from him. "Be nice. This is Clarissa Fray. You'll be working _with_ her from this day forward."

Jace felt his eyes widen a fraction. "_This _is her?" He turned to face the woman – Clarissa – again. She was pretty, and a lot younger than Jace had expected. Her red hair fell passed her shoulders and her green eyes shone in the less-than-perfect lighting of the coffee shop. She looked younger than Stephen, placing her at around twenty-five years old. "You aren't what I expected," He admitted.

"I can guarantee that Clarissa is our very best, Jace."

Jace met Clarissa's eyes. "Do you even know the first thing about motocross, or high-speed?"

The woman across form him simply smiled. "I know that you're the youngest racer in your league— both of them." She said. "I know that you challenge Jonathan Morgenstern, and I know that the two of you are the only two cross-series racers under twenty-five." Clarissa paused to sip her drink. "You've earned a total of thirty competition trophies, four of them being championships."

Imogen looked at Jace expectantly, and slightly hopeful. _Well, what do you think?_

Jace scoffed, folding and unfolding his sunglasses. "That doesn't mean she knows racing." He said to Imogen before returning his gaze to Clarissa. "It means you Google-d me."

Imogen shook her head, sighing. "Clarissa, could you excuse us for a moment please?" After a long glance at Jace, Clarissa agreed, sliding out of the booth. Imogen waited until she was out of ear shot before turning to Jace. "What are you _doing?_"

"She'll never last in the industry, Imogen! I need her to get me to the WS, and I honestly doubt she'll make it passed the first round."

"I don't think you're in a situation to argue with me, Jace. You _need _her, and you won't be able to compete without her. You should at least give her a chance."

Jace considered for a moment. He _did _need an agent, that was for sure. Making it to the World Series was his dream, and he wanted nothing more than to prove Stephen wrong. Reluctantly, Jace spoke again: "I told you on the phone, and I'll tell you again. She has until the half season. If I don't think she can do this by then—"

"Jace!" Imogen interrupted. "You are in_ no _position to be making deals. You've been all over the media lately. You can't afford to mess up again._ You need her_. No more discussion." Her icy blue eyes pierced into him.

"Until the half season race," Jace repeated. "Then, if she doesn't measure up, I want you to tell Michael to drop whatever client he has at the time. Understood?"

Imogen sighed, then – realizing that arguing with Jace was a losing battle – nodded her head. She waved Clarissa back over, pulling a red folder from her purse.

"Alright," Imogen said. She opened the folder and handed Jace and Clarissa a piece of heavy paper. Jace didn't bother reading the entire contact; instead he flipped to the end to sign his name in neat cursive. Just as he returned the paper to Imogen, he noticed Clary had done the same. Jace unfolded his sunglasses once more, sliding them onto his face.

"Ladies, this has been . . ." he searched for the word. "Endearing, maybe? I hate to leave in a rush, but I have training, so I should really be going." He shot Clarissa a look. "I would hate to be late twice in one day."

He stood up, ready to leave when Clarissa spoke up. "If you don't mind, I'd like to come along." Jace raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to learn what _can't _be found on Google."

She was mocking him, Jace realized. He glanced at Imogen – who didn't seem as if she was paying attention anymore – then looked at his watch. He was cutting it too close, he didn't even have time to make a sarcastic comment. Looking down—_damn, she was tiny—_at his new agent Jace shrugged.

"Fine. Just hurry up. If I'm late, you'll have to explain a dead body to the courts."

* * *

**Okay, I hope the length of this chapter made up for the time in between updates :) But let's be honest, this chapter is a BEAST! (Nah, I'm just really wordy) At least to me, typing it, it is. And my computer crashed about four times, so I had to retype a bunch of it. But now Jace and Clary have finally met! Yay! The first few chapters are pretty boring – in my opinion, I hope you don't feel the same – just because everyone needs to **_**meet**_** each other, and everything needs to be put in place before anything can happen. But I promise, it gets better! I just wrote out the BEST chapter ever – be patient, it'll come later – and now I'm just trying to figure out how I want to get to that part of the story.**

**Oh! And I just read Clockwork Princess! I NEED someone to talk about something! It's concerning Jem! so if you've read it, tell me how you felt about it: love, hate, anything in between?**

**I honestly don't know when the next update will be, hopefully either next week or the week after. But I don't want to get your hopes up, because my computer is an actual piece of shit –sorry, it's two in the morning, and it keeps crashing and I don't know what to do. I'm getting a laptop soon, though, so these update will start coming more frequently!**

**Until next time!**

**HooliGLAM**


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